


Golden

by chelouple28



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: 4 times, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:26:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21893608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chelouple28/pseuds/chelouple28
Summary: alternatively the four times Eliott was mesmerized by Lucas' body
Relationships: Eliott Demaury/Lucas Lallemant
Comments: 20
Kudos: 175





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> why am i like this
> 
> ummm MERRY CHRISTMAS?! consider this a gift from me to you. this goes out to everyone who goes feral over how smooth and sun-kissed axel's skin looks but especially to mara (and the rest of my skamfr&cry girls) because she's the one who gave me the idea
> 
> i hope you enjoy! happy reading <33 
> 
> come share your love in [eluincorrectquotes](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/eluincorrectquotes)

Eliott can feel the back of his hoodie clinging to his skin, water droplets trickling down his neck from his hair. He sits on Lucas’ bed with his hands on his lap, caught between looking at his shoes and at Lucas’ moonlit profile.

“You’re staring.” Lucas murmurs, shy, a hint of a smile on his face as he unfolds a dry t-shirt from the wardrobe.

“I know.” Eliott answers in a hushed voice. “Can you blame me?”

Lucas hides his smile behind the t-shirt, shoulders going up in a half-hearted shrug as he raises his eyebrows teasingly. The image makes Eliott’s heart stutter in his chest, and he makes grabby hands at Lucas until the younger boy fits himself between Eliott’s legs, the black t-shirt balled up at one side of his body.

"We should get changed.” Lucas protests weakly between them, eyeing Eliott’s drenched clothes. Eliott only hums, cupping Lucas’ waist with his hands. “We’ll end up sick if we don’t.”

Eliott looks up at Lucas through his eyelashes, squeezing his hips, and sees how Lucas huffs a little at the soft _worth it_ before giving in. He rests his hands on Eliott’s shoulders with a content sigh, smiling down at Eliott, and Eliott does the same, fitting his hands under Lucas’ sweater.

“Your hands are cold.” Lucas whispers as a shudder shakes his body. 

Eliott feels the goosebumps arising after his touch - and a sick, selfish part of him wants to run the pads of his fingers all over Lucas’ body until every inch of skin is burning up; but the rest of him, the part of him that moves with warmth for the boy between his legs, urges him to stop. So he does.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, rubbing Lucas’ sides as an apology. He drops a kiss to Lucas’ ribs through the sweater, soft and lingering, making Lucas’ hands tremble on top of Eliott’s shoulders. 

“It’s okay, it just surprised me.”

Eliott hums again, tracing his fingers up and down Lucas’ sides, the damp material rough underneath his fingertips. The sigh Lucas lets out sounds happy; so soft and relaxed Eliott’s heart clenches. Lucas circles Eliott’s neck with his arms, fingers twirling the short hairs on his nape, making Eliott’s smile widen. 

Lucas takes one step closer, so close his knees hit the bed, just as Eliott squeezes his legs shut, caging him in. Eliott has to crane his neck up to stare up at Lucas, and he laughs internally at the irony of it all. 

“This is a nice view.” 

And god, it is. From where he’s sitting, Lucas looks like every single one of Eliott’s dreams. He’s all smooth skin, paled over by the moonlight coming from the window, water droplets rolling down his neck and dark eyes shining against the pitch black night. 

“It is?” Lucas jokes, running his hands from behind Eliott’s head to cup his face. Eliott nods against Lucas’ palm. “Mine isn’t too bad, either.”

The adoration laced in his voice makes Eliott’s face flush red, and he grips Lucas’ arms, pulling him down. Lucas bends effortlessly until they’re eye to eye, pressing their foreheads together, and closes his eyes, waiting for Eliott to close the space between them. 

Eliott does without hesitation, pressing his thumbs onto the hollow of Lucas’ neck. Their lips slide together with ease, Lucas’ bottom lip between Eliott’s and shy tongues playing hide and seek inside each other’s mouths; it feel so natural Eliott has a hard time believing they’ve kissed for the first time today. The kiss is slow and lazy, no trace of the franticness from the park in sigh, open mouths sliding against each other in comfort.

Eliott hitches his hands up further, startling Lucas when the paw of his hoodie makes contact with his skin. The shocked gasp that leaves Lucas’ mouth breaks them apart, and Eliott laughs against his chin at Lucas’ offended noise. 

“Okay, you have to get out of that hoodie, Elsa. And so do I, for the matter.” Lucas says as he pulls away. Eliott laughs again, breathlessly, fingers running down Lucas’ arms as Lucas takes a few steps backwards until he’s out of Eliott’s reach. “I’ll go get a towel. Stay there.”

Eliott watches as Lucas leaves the room, snorting as Lucas stumbles over the sneakers by the door. He bites his lip to cover up his laughter when he gives him the middle finger. He can hear noises from the other room, which Eliott guesses is the bathroom, and he winces at the thudding noise against a wall before a string of curses breaks through the silent room. Eliott’s smile widens at that.

Lucas enters the room again a minute later with a towel in hand.

“This is the only one I could find, um..” he holds up the vibrant pink towel for Eliott to see, sheepishly. “It’s Mika’s.”

Eliott stands up and walks over to Lucas, fetching the towel from Lucas’ grip before lifting it up to his face to inspect it. 

“It’s cute,” he concludes, reassuringly, watching as Lucas tries to hide a sigh of relief with a cough. “It has character.”

“Or something.”

Eliott laughs.

“Or something.” he agrees. He hands Lucas the towel back. “Hold this for a second.”

And with that he goes to grab the hem of his hoodie, raising his arms up and pulling it over his head. The wet fabric peeling off from his skin makes him grimace. It feels uncomfortable, like wearing jeans after a shower or sleeping on your sunburnt shoulders, and he doesn’t think twice before letting the hoodie fall to the floor with a loud thud. 

Lucas’ eyes roam all over his naked chest both with appreciation and terror, as if he can’t make up his mind, and he has to laugh at Lucas’ distressed expression. He takes the towel from between Lucas’ hands before he has the chance to overthink, making a quick job of drying his torso. Then he picks up the discarded t-shirt at the foot of Lucas’ bed and puts it on. 

Lucas blinks slowly, feelings of betrayal and disappointment clear on his face that he tries to bat away.

“Right.” His cheeks are flushed as he looks between the towel and Eliott, turning around to pick up a t-shirt for himself. Eliott hands him the towel before sitting down in bed with a teasing smile, earning himself an eye-roll.

He watches as Lucas throws his sweater over his head. It lands close to Eliott’s hoodie, and the image makes him strangely emotional. Lucas does a more delicate job at drying himself, and Eliott has to support himself on his hands to avoid falling over as the moon illuminates half of Lucas’ back, the light bathing his skin in white, as little water droplets roll down his shoulder-blades until they disappear under the waistband of his jean. 

“Can I?” Lucas turns his head to look at him, tilting his head to one side. Eliott gestures to the towel. “Your hair is still wet. Can I?”

Lucas nods then, muted. Unmoving. 

Eliott crosses the room in quick strides, withdrawing the towel from Lucas’ hold before rubbing his hair with it. Lucas falls back into Eliott’s touch, letting Eliott dry his hair and, eventually, his neck, his shoulder-blades, the dip of his spine, the small of his back. Eliott runs the towel with gentle care across Lucas’ skin, catching every drop of water reflected from the moon, entranced with the shadows the clouds cast on his skin whenever they pass by Lucas’ window. 

After a while he lets the towel drop to the floor, satisfied with his work. Lucas whines softly, chasing Eliott’s touch blindly, and Eliott doesn’t think before placing his hands of Lucas’ shoulderblades. He watches as his fingers explore Lucas’ skin, from the top of his shoulders all the way down to the waistband of his jeans, fingers pressing into the dimples of his back, mesmerized by the smooth glide of his hands running up and down Lucas’ back. Lucas’ content sighs fill the room, light and relaxed, as Eliott traces the three moles on his right shoulder and draws love declarations on his spine for a long time.

He worries Lucas might be falling asleep after the younger boy lets out a characteristically loud yawn, and he halts his ministrations to a stop. Lucas lets out a confused little noise at that, attempting to turn around with clumsy movements when Eliott’s hands leave his body. Eliott shushes him gently, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder and using the proximity to steal Lucas’ t-shirt out from his grip.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs against Lucas’ neck. He throws the t-shirt over his head, fumbling with Lucas’ limbs until he gets the sleeves over his arms. “Let’s go to sleep, okay?”

“No,” Lucas protests, voice raspy, one step away from a deep slumber. “Stay like this for a little more. It’s nice. Please?”

And so they stay like this, Eliott’s arms thrown snugly around Lucas’ waist, his chin resting on Lucas’ shoulder, because it’s been a day, and Eliott already knows he would never deny the boy between his arms anything. They stay like that, staring at the wall, Lucas half asleep against Eliott and Eliott pressing small kisses to his neck and jaw, the moon illuminating their profiles; they stay like that until Eliott’s feet ache and his eyelids feel heavy, and then for a little while more, because he might not have this tomorrow. But he does today, and he’s willing to make the sacrifice. 

For this boy, he’d make every sacrifice. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Vincent Van Gogh used to eat yellow paint because he thought it would get the happiness inside him"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part 2!!!!!! i made myself emo at least 3 times writing this, i hope you'll emjoy as much as i enjoyed writing it! please let me know what you think, and as always, all my love <33
> 
> especially dedicated to my girl

_“Do not.”_

Lucas giggles breathlessly against his neck, a sound so bright it matches the yellow stain behind his ear, and Eliott bites the inside of his cheek, looping one arm around him. 

“I didn’t say anything!” 

Lucas looks up at him with wide eyes and a grin that threatens to split his face in half. And Eliott’s heart hasn’t beaten this hard for anyone, ever. There are splotches of purple and ocean blue swirling under his chin; it makes its way around his neck all the way down to his shoulders, although his t-shirt covers it up, but Eliott knows it’s there. A smudged line of pale pink in the shape of Eliott’s fingers stands proudly high on his left cheekbone. Funnily enough, the bridge of his nose is tinted in a shade of green, but it fades abruptly on the tip of his nose. 

Eliott bites back a smile. Instead, he tightens his grip around Lucas’ body. “But you were thinking it.”

“Oh, are you a mind reader now?” Lucas says it with laughter in his voice, digging his fingers on the sides of Eliott’s ribs and making him yelp, so bright and happy that Eliott feels himself getting choked up for a second. 

It’s been a hard two weeks. For Lucas, and for him - and there’s a black gaping hole inside of him that won’t let him think past how ugly it looks, been there since the day he was born, he thinks, although he only found out what it meant two years ago. It’s cold and it gnaws at him, sinking his stomach until he’s lying face first on the floor; it disgusts him, that cold part of him, the demons inside his head. Almost as much as what he did to Lucas. 

He doesn’t think he’ll ever forgive himself. But he’ll try to be better, for Lucas, for today, and for as long as Lucas lets him. And hopefully, he thinks, hopefully the fall won’t hurt too much when Lucas loathes him for the black hole that pierces his belly. Better that than being the reason for the bags under his eyes. 

“Eliott?” His name sounds sweet rolling out of Lucas’ mouth, like a warm kiss in Spring, so incredibly soft that Eliott has to look down at Lucas. Lucas gives him a curious smile, brows slightly furrowed and clear blue eyes scanning his face in wonder.

Eliott huffs out a little laugh at Lucas’ expression. It’s so sweet. It’s too sweet. It’s bare, and vulnerable, and trusting, and Eliott can’t do anything but kiss him. Kiss him everywhere: on the lips, soft and plump. On his nose. On his cheeks, thousands of them, fast kisses against the cool skin, rosy from the wind as the parisian sun begins to set. Lucas laughs breathlessly, putty under Eliott’s mouth. 

He falls a little more in love then, with a boy that’s made out of sunshine under his arm, the sound of the birds chirping away at dawn and an all seasons-long kind of love filling his veins. 

“I think I _might_ be a mind reader, you know?” Eliott whispers in Lucas’ ear as they wait for the streetlight to turn green. He has his arms wrapped around Lucas’ stomach, whole body shielding him from the cold as much as he can. By-passers look at them weirdly, at the two boys with the rainbow in their skin and light in their eyes, and Lucas smiles at every single one of them. As if he’s proud of the golden marks on his neck that Eliott left there. 

Lucas hums against his cheek. 

“I am,” Eliott insists, quietly, pressing the words into Lucas’ neck. “I am. I thought I wouldn’t get to have you here ever again. But today, today I looked at you, and I hadn’t asked any question yet, but it felt like you had all the answers written,” he brushes his thumb under Lucas’ eyes, down, down, down, until it’s pressing against the small dimple on his cheek “right here.”

He feels Lucas’ breath hitch, and then a hushed whisper. “Yeah?” 

And it’s not the best place to have this conversation, Eliott admits, not in a sidewalk on the outside of Paris, not when Eliott’s legs feel wobbly under him from the walk back to Lucas’ flat, because the bus driver took one look at Eliott’s paint covered jeans and drenched t-shirt and closed the door in their faces (Lucas didn’t look better, but he didn’t look worse, either.). Not when there’s paint in their hair and Lucas’ shoulders shudder from the biting wind that’s starting to pick up as the sky turns black. 

But there’s something about the sheer realism of the situation, about the way that Lucas’ hands fit around his wrists as they wait patiently on the sidewalk, the sound of a siren nearby and the rushing of cars driving past them, the shades in the shape of the buildings on ground and the quiet chattering from the people around them, quiet enough that it blends in with the background, that makes this moment so incredibly intimate. 

Eliott releases a soft breath through his nose, and then he answers “Yes,” he says, slowly, deliberately, “Right there, in the way that you smile, in the corner of your mouth, every single inch of skin that I have kissed. It hides in there, all of the answers to my universe.”

Lucas tilts his head to one side a little, and the look in his eyes almost makes Eliott’s knees give out. There’s a fire that battles the ocean in the iris of his eyes, and Eliott can almost see himself stranded in a one person boat in the middle of it, batting away the flames that dance dangerously around the wooden deck. 

He presses one kiss to Eliott’s cheek then, hard and rough, almost like his lips are trying to make up for what his tongue won’t say; it lingers, just the soft press of Lucas’ lips against his cheek, and then he does it again, and then a third time, each softer than the last one, soothing, as a shy apology for the first one.

There is not one inch between them for the rest of the walk.

* * *

When they open the front door to Lucas’ flat, the living-room is uncharacteristically quiet. The curtains have been drawn closed already, draping the room in a welcoming dimness. It looks well lived-in; there’s a bowl of something on the table and a few blankets pooled at the end of the sofa - not much has changed since he was here last, he thinks, although he didn’t really get to take a good look at it the morning he left. 

Lucas has to pry Eliott’s hands off his body after they spend far too long standing in the middle of the living-room with their arms around each other like two idiots, Eliott’s nose buried in the crook of Lucas’ neck. He allows Lucas to fetch some spare clothes, not before kissing the skin between his neck and shoulders once, watching confusedly as the younger boy grabs a spare change of clothes from under the couch. 

He decides not to comment on it. A second later, Lucas is walking towards the common bathroom, Eliott trailing right behind him like a lost puppy; and it’s a nice change for once, getting to be the one doing the chasing, instead of letting yourself be chased. He manages to get a hold of Lucas just before they pass through the threshold, hands fitting under his t-shirt and fingers digging into his hips, just enough pressure that it leaves Lucas gasping. 

“Let’s stay like this for a little bit.” He murmurs, pulling him closer to his chest. Lucas squirms in his arms, struggling to reach the door handle. “Let me enjoy this for a little while longer. You’re so warm.” The words are muffled on Lucas’ t-shirt.

“Eliott,” Lucas whispers in the dark. He turns in Eliott’s hold, his cheek dragging against Eliott’s arm before their bodies fully pressed chest to chest. He fits his arms around Eliott’s neck. “Eliott.”

The eyes that blink up at him are dark, thousands of galaxies and stars looking up at him dazely, mouth parted and shallow breathing hitting his chin. “Lucas,” Eliott whispers. He cups Lucas’ face with his hands; they fit under Lucas’ jaw perfectly, like two long-lost pieces of a puzzle, the black in his hands contrasting painfully against Lucas’ sun-kissed skin. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Lucas smiles bashfully, pressing his smile into Eliott’s hand, and Eliott hopes he’ll get to have the curve of his mouth as a mark in the palm of his hand as a memory forever. 

“So are you.” Lucas whispers, covering Eliott’s fingers with his. He stands on his toes, tilting his chin up, eyes fluttering closed as he covers Eliott’s lips with his. Eliott kisses him back, chastely, just lips sliding together, and he eagerly swallows the sound Lucas makes when he grabs the back of his thighs, lifting him off the ground.

Lucas wraps his legs around Eliott’s waist, grinning so hard he has to pull away from the kiss. His chest raises up and down against Eliott’s, cheeks flushed, and he smiles at Eliott with stars in his eyes. “You’re ridiculous.” He whispers, letting his forehead fall against Eliott’s, fingers caressing his cheeks with wonder. “So ridiculous. And incredible. No one’s ever done this for me.”

Eliott can’t help himself, closing the distance between their lips once again, a small peck before opening his eyes. He brushes the tip of his nose back and forth on Lucas’ nose bridge, adamant to get rid of the paint on his face without using water. 

“You deserve it,” he breathes, one breath that falls dead between them, heart beating loudly in his ears. And for a fleeting second his whole body feels heavy, because maybe he shouldn’t be the one giving Lucas this, because he’ll inevitably and undoubtedly taint these memories for Lucas, for the both of them, and Lucas doesn’t deserve that. Still, another part of him, the bigger part, is too love-drunk in the sound of Lucas’ laughter to think clearly. “You deserve everything.”

Lucas kisses him then, soundly, a bruising kiss that leaves a metallic taste in its wake, so intoxicating Eliott feels dizzy for a second. He struggles to get them through the door, wobbling and stumbling as he kicks the door open with his knee, elbow digging into the light switch. 

When they open their eyes again, the artificial led bulb is bathing the room in a soft yellow-ish light. They grin at each other, Lucas cocking his head to one side, eyebrows raised, and Eliott beam, kicking the door closed with his hip. 

Clothes fly around the bathroom, eager hands playing and touching skin, as much as they can reach, and it feels like a re-do from this afternoon, but also not. There’s passion in their hands, because it’s them, and there’s something about the smooth glide on Lucas’ stomach that makes Eliott go feral, but it’s also sweet. Playful. Lucas takes off his t-shirt and throws it in Eliott’s face, and Eliott splutters, giving him the middle finger over his shoulder as he tries to get out of his jeans, making Lucas snicker. 

“I hope you like hot showers.” Lucas has his hand under the water faucet, a peaceful expression on his face, naked as the day he was born. He’s so unbelievably beautiful like this, the shitty bathroom light washing his skin, paint marks in the shape of Eliott’s fingers scattered all over his body, all sharp edges and soft curves, nothing like anything Eliott has ever seen before. “Because if you don’t, I’m kicking you out.”

Eliott walks over to him, dropping a small kiss to the line of his hair before whispering, “I love them.”

He doesn’t, but he thinks it’s okay to lie about this. 

Lucas gives him one last look before entering the shower, first one feet and then the other; Eliott follows right after him. The second the water hits their bodies, an overwhelming stream of colors runs between their feet, staining the bath walls with pink, and red and blue. They watch mesmerized as the yellow on Eliott’s shins spills down the drain and washes away like it was never there; it feels like a loss, weirdly enough, all the bright colors leaving his body, and Eliott holds his breath, almost waiting for the black hole in his stomach to be uncovered by the warm water. 

“It’s fitting.” Lucas says quietly. His voice echoes on the bathroom, the words bouncing on the shower tiles until they make sense in Eliott’s head.

He gives Lucas a confused look. “What is?”

Lucas takes one step closer. The shower is not big enough for two, not by far, so his knees bump against Eliott’s as he does so. He circles Eliott’s waist with his arms, resting his hands on the small of his back. “All the yellow at your feet. It looks like you’re spilling rays of sunshine.” He says, gently, lifting one of his hands to cup Eliott’s face. “My sunshine boy.”

The air leaves Eliott’s lungs, and he’s left gaping, eyes brimming with tears. He pushes Lucas’ body against the cold tiles, kissing the small gasp Lucas lets out away, gripping his arms with trembling hands. The water droplets mix with the teardrops on his eyelashes, but he feels one fall down the side of his face when he blinks. 

He doesn’t know he’s shaking his head until Lucas is holding his face still with gentle hands. 

“It’s true.” Lucas says, tracing Eliott’s features with his fingers. “You’re the brightest person I know. In your eyes,” he brushes his index finger under his eye with wonder, “when you smile, it’s like the sunshine spills out from you.”

Eliott sighs, letting his eyes flutter shut as he feels Lucas’ fingers tracing his face. He moves his arms from behind Lucas’ body, enjoying the way they glide smoothly across the wet skin on Lucas’ shoulders and stomach. The warm water hits his neck, and he think he starts to understand what’s so appealing about hot showers as he feels Lucas’ warm skin under his hands. 

A faint sound coming from the wall next to the shower perks up his interest, and he opens his eyes slowly, smiling contently at Lucas. Lucas smiles back at him, softly, hands fitting on the hollow of his collarbones. “Do your neighbors know they play their music extremely loud?”

Lucas gives him a curious look. “What?”

“Shh,” Eliott presses one finger to Lucas’ mouth, turning to look at the wall behind him. “Listen.”

“Wha-”

Soon enough the low melody catches up with his brain and he grins, turning to look at a very confused-looking Lucas.

“You don’t hear it?” He murmurs, hugging Lucas’ neck. Lucas shakes his head with a dopey smile on his face. “It’s Katy Perry.”

“Katy Perry?” Lucas snorts. “You like Katy Perry too?”

Eliott gasps, pushing at Lucas’ shoulder mockingly. “What’s wrong with Katy Perry?!”

“Everything?” 

“No,” Eliott complains, bringing their mouths together, “she’s written awesome songs!” He says against Lucas’ lips, pulling away a few inches that has Lucas whining for more, a playful glint in his eyes. “C’mon… _You make me feel like I’m living a teenage dream,_ Lucas.”

Lucas groans so loud it etches a loud, startled laugher out of Eliott. 

“Shut the fuck up.”

Eliott laughs again, cackles, cupping Lucas’ head after the younger boy lets his head fall on his shoulder in defeat. It’s never felt like this before, he’s never had a beautiful boy - or a girl - to sing Katy Perry songs to in the shower, not like this, not so freely and unbearably happy as he feels right now. He loved Lucille, he’s sure of that, but it never felt as _light_ as this does right now.

“You know you want to join, how does it go again?” He asks, mostly to drag it out, because despite the groans coming from Lucas he can also feel a grin pressed on his shoulder. “ _The way you turn me on,”_ Lucas unburies his face from Eliott’s neck at that line and Eliott snickers, holding his face between his hands and pressing his thumbs into his cheeks. _“I can’t sleep.”_

Eliott beams at him, pressing the words into Lucas’ mouth, brushing his lips against Lucas’ as he mouths the words, teasingly, rubbing their noses together as he pulls them closer and pushes away to his liking until Lucas is whining and pulling him closer by his shoulders. “I won’t kiss you until you say it.”

“Eliott!” Eliott fixes him with an innocent look, smiling playfully. Lucas rolls his eyes, mouth set in a slight pout before letting out a heavy sigh. He wraps his arms around Eliott’s waist again, squeezing, before joining Eliott’s slightly off-key redemption of Teenage Dream quietly, “ _I finally found you, my missing puzzle piece,”_

Eliott laughs delightfully at that. “So you _do_ know the lyrics!”

Lucas huffs out a laugh and rolls his eyes again. 

“Idiot.” He says before finally closing the gap between them.

“Your idiot, though.” Eliott whispers against Lucas’ mouth, sliding his hands down Lucas’ back, teasing his tongue against Lucas’ bottom lip before biting gently.

“Yeah,” Lucas says, breathless, tightening his grip around Eliott’s shoulders, and Eliott swears he feels a stain of yellow paint imprinting itself under his skin, vibrating and for him and Lucas to see only. “My idiot.”

His idiot, indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> title golden by harry styles


End file.
